Actions speak louder than words

I was thinking today about how sad it is that Ethan will never know his Grandma Sue (she would have hated that name!)  That is beyond my control. Completely.  It is much sadder that he will never know his uncle.  It dawned on me today just how messed up that is.  To deny a little boy the closest living relative (other than his parents) because you disagree with his mother's lifestyle choices (i.e. not being rich and egotistical).  It dawned on me that Ethan will never sit around the table and get to ask his uncle what his Grandma was like when he was growing up. What music did she listen to? What was her favorite book? He won't be able to ask how his Mom was as a little girl, either. Sure, he has me to tell him things like this.  But it is not the same.  Now I have the dilemma, as he gets  older, of explaining to him why his uncle does not want anything to do with him.  The problem is, I haven't a clue. My other option is to pretend like his uncle does not exist.  That is the easier option for me.  Out of sight, out of mind.  I know that I will never live up to Trey's expectations of me. At least I hope that I don't.  I have no desire to be anything like him.  We have never been close. I don't expect it.  But to punish Ethan for not liking me is just disgusting.  No, Ethan will not know he has an Uncle trey. His uncle does not deserve to be recognized.  And he certainly does not deserve the opportunity to hurt him and alienate him the way he has me. He does not deserve to know Ethan. Ethan deserves better.

Things I want Ethan to know about the South (one day)

The smell of grass after it rains.  Mississippi State Football. Tailgating. Walking around campus on a Fall or Spring day. Cock of the Walk. Mammaw's old backyard. Scamp. Molly. My mom. Aunt Patti's old house on Camellia Trail.  Driving through Carthage to get to Jackson instead of taking the bypass.  Driving around the cones to sneak on the bypass so not to have to go through Carthage to get to Jackson.  Magnolia trees.  Pecan tassies. Chocolate pies. Picking blackberries. Watching the rain "dance" down the street in Green Brier. Seeing Hayley's Comet.  Thunderstorms with the windows and doors wide open. Mississippi State Basketball.  The Chicken Basket in Louisville. Mae West dolls. Ivory soap. Patches (aka Little Bit).  Nanny's sweet tea in aluminum cups.  Papaw on the porch swing. That damn rooster.  Aunt Mary's VW bug.   Dave's Dark Horse Tavern.  John's grocery. The old Highway 82 bridge on the way to Columbus.  West Point. Miss Pat's Playhouse taking me to see E.T.  Harvey's cheese sticks. Left Field Lounge.  Dorman Hall. Gulf Shores. Dauphin Island Ferry. 8 Flags and Beauvoir on the Coast.  Uncle Keith.  Little Caesar's pizza pizza. King's Quest. Washington Street. Blackjack Road. Switches. Tornado drills. Walking through wet grass barefoot.  Jumping in leaves. Riding a bike for hours without getting tired or bored.  Atari 2600. Haunted houses.  Getting anywhere by walking on the train tracks.  Aunt Jean.  The hummingbirds coming back every year to Mammaw's house in Brandon.  Granddaddy's "Squirrel and the Helicopter" joke.  The Round Table restaurant.  Shoney's. Baskin Robbins. Whirlpool baths.  King of the mountain.  Peas and cornbread.  Noxubee Refuge.  Oby's french fries.  Pink flamingos.  Blue recliner.  Neil Young.  James Taylor.  Martha Ford.  Mama Clara's house.  Winston cigarettes (dad).  Unc. Daddy Dan. Aunt Sis. Aunt Charlotte's pool.  Dixie.  Feeling safe. Family.Love.

Hello Again

Gone are the leisurely days of chasing a crawling baby around the house hoping he did not find some old crumb of food to gum.  Gone are the days of toting him around and having him be happy to be held.  Gone are the days of him occupying himself with Baby Einstein and a a straw. Now he climbs up everything (even the wall), wants to be outside running free. And just try to keep him in that buggy a the grocery.  He argues and talks back (and even though I do not completely understand him, I know it is not "I love you, mommy" that he is gibbering at a hundred miles an hour with tears in his eyes and steam coming out of his ears).  He eats better. If by better, you mean at all.  But he is way too partial to Graham crackers and vanilla almond milk.  He actually takes his cup to the fridge now and demands milk.  He has figured out that he does not always have to do as he is told, especially if he acts like he does not understand.  I mean he is only 17 months old. Why is he acting 13?  On the other hand, he knows so many words. And he loves to giggle at himself.  He finds himself extremely amusing these days.  He pets Marley (and she lets him). He dances to Bear and the Big Blue House Dance Party DVD.  He vacuums and mops. He helps Mama make dinner and brownies (moving that stool to whatever part of the kitchen looks the most promising for getting into a trouble). Right now he is sitting in my lap playing with t he printer ...which must have told him some pretty funny jokes because he is cackling at it. Trying to feed me (and the computer screen oatmeal). I guess that is my cue.. hey!..gotta get the loving while I can these days!